Say Something (I'm Giving Up On You)
by GreyScientist
Summary: What if Ana left Christian (at the end of book one) and ignored his pleas for forgiveness? How long would they survive without each other...and what would the damage be? *This is my first fic here! I'd love feedback as I work on adding chapters! Thanks so much for taking the time to read it! -GS* -NOT a cheating fic (no really, trust me!)-
1. Chapter 1

The phone rings and wakes me from a deep, dark, troubled void. How long have I been asleep? Days? Hours? I have no idea what time it is as I glare at the harsh sunlight streaming into my room. The phone continues to ring. Damnit. I scramble for it. It nearly falls from my hand as I press the 'talk' button.

"Hello?" I cough and clear my throat, still raw from yet another night of sobbing. That's getting old and it's not getting any better.

"Anastasia?" It's the British voice of a man I don't even begin to recognize. Come to think of it, I don't think I know anyone British.

"Yes?" I warble again even more confused now then I was when I woke up.

"Anastasia, my name is Doctor Flynn. I need to talk to you about Christian." Doctor Flynn. Christian. My heart flutters for a brief moment and then sinks deep into a pit in my stomach. Oh God hassomething happened to him? I slink back in my bed, resisting the urge to pass out.

"Is he ok?" I hurriedly ask, closing my eyes against the answer. Please, no. No, no, no. I haven't talked to Christian in weeks. He sent flowers, the same white roses that were wilting next to my bed, and I said nothing. Jose's art show came and went and I ignored Christian's emails and requests to see me. I was broken. I couldn't do it. But that had been a week ago. I assumed he had moved on but what if it was something much much worse. I would never forgive myself. I noticed Doctor Flynn remained silent. My eyes were still pinched closed.

"Is he ok?!" I repeated, more feverishly this time.

"I don't know." His answer was soft and apologetic. How could he not know? This was the man Christian told everything to.

"Christian has missed his appointments with me for two weeks in a row. He has never missed a single appointment..." I am listening to the fear in Flynn's voice as I scramble to my feet. "I have tried to reach him numerous times. His assistant, Mr. Taylor, came by yesterday to tell me that he had been fired and asked to leave. He seemed distraught." Good news. Someone had seen Christian as recently as yesterday...and he was ok. Bad news. Christian fired Taylor?! How on earth.

"I know this is stepping over the line, but I wondered if I might convince you to go see him. With me, of course. Mr. Taylor let me know that you had left, and I understand your hesitance, of course. But if it set of some kind of reaction in him...you may be the only one that can help me right now."

I am only half listening to Flynn as I pull my jeans up. The same ones that were in a pile by my bed from yesterday. I balance the phone on my shoulder as I pull my jeans over my hip and button them. I glance at my half-dressed self in the mirror. I look like hell. I feel like it, too.

"What time can I meet you there?" I interrupt him, not wanting to waste a single minute.

Doctor Flynn is perched at the doorway to Escala with Taylor as I drive up. I feel a pang of embarrassment about my car as Taylor rounds it to help me out the door. We smile familiarly at each other, both wearing the same mask of sadness. Without thinking I throw myself at him and he welcomes me into his arms. He pats my back as I allow a few tears to escape into his shoulder.

"Taylor, what happened?" I lean back and clean my face as he stares at me, producing another hankerchief. He is silent. He nods towards Doctor Flynn as he slides into my car to park it.

The doctor is a good looking, younger man. Not the Sigmund Freud I was picturing. I blush as he watches me walk towards him. I can only imagine what Christian has told him about me. He extends a hand and I shake it.

"Thank you for coming, Anastasia." He is kind and sincere and I smile at his pleasantry.

"Of course."

We walk in silence into the lobby and into the elevator. He presses the button and we both inhale deeply as we start the ascent towards Christian.

"What are you expecting to find here?" I ask bravely, unsure if I want an answer. I turn to look at him and he frowns slightly at my inquisition.

"I'm not sure, Anastasia." His honesty is appreciated even if it does scare me.

"What do you expect me to do?" My voice lowers. I am afraid.

"I'm not sure, Anastasia." He turns to face me.

"You've never dealt with something like this before?" I am worried that this is turning into the blind leading the blind.

"I've never dealt with someone like Christian before. It's all unchartered territory." He tries to smile and I try to smile back. Believe me, I know.

"I just thought that having the one thing he really loves would help me to get through to him."

My heart stops for a moment. Knowing how honest Christian is with this man. What did he just say?! Does Christian love me? The same Christian who recoiled from me when I suggested that I was in love with him? That in no uncertain terms forbade me to love him and refused to love me back?! I start to feel angry...where is that coming from?

"Christian told you he loved me?" I'm an embarrassed school child and still afraid of the answer. Flynn raises an eyebrow.

"He didn't have to." His face softens. He's almost sad. We both remain silent until the elevator finally dings the announcement that we've made it.

We both walk slowly into the dark apartment as if we are waiting to be attacked by a deranged killer. Escala. It's changed. It's silent. It's dark. Darker than usual. The rainy Seattle afternoon doesn't help. No Taylor...no anyone. We both stand there waiting, watching, listening. I know he is there...I can feel him. But where?!

I leave Doctor Flynn's side, suddenly feeling brazen and determined. I walk to the kitchen. It's dark but the island is splattered with bottles of scotch. Mostly empty ones. One half full and sitting left open. There are a few tumblers sitting around too. Some fill the sink. I've never seen a dirty dish in the sink...ever. I suddenly know Taylor wasn't the only one fired. I am distracted by the sound of Doctor Flynn padding into the apartment. I turn and decide I need to follow him.

We walk towards the piano and my breath hitches. I remember the last time I was here. The panic in Christian's face as I assured him I was leaving. I can hardly bear it. I look out the window past the piano at the sunken and grey skyline and picture Christian's eyes that reflect it's same color. I scan the horizon and then I notice something on the other side of the piano. It's Christian.

Sprawled on the floor between the piano and the large pane of glass overlooking the city. His legs splayed out haphazardly towards the glass, his bare feet nearly touching it. His jeans are wrinkled and slouchy...and not in the way I would normally find breathtaking...in a way that terrifies me. His torso is covered in a white tshirt only, and his long arm extends from it...his long fingers curled around the half empty tumbler of scotch that sits on the floor next to him. I can hardly take my eyes off of him until I force myself to look at Doctor Flynn. He is staring at Christian with the same awe that I feel. He turns to look at me and then quietly nods to me as if he has read my mind and my desire to go to him.

I pad quietly towards him, my blue trench coat still on but hanging open. I stop and drop my bag on the couch. The muffled sound of my purse slouching down onto the leather causes Christian's head to turn towards me. I pause, and hope that he will look at me but instead he slowly turns back towards the glass. I round the piano and catch a better glimpse of him. He hasn't shaved. Maybe not since I saw him last. I've only ever seen him with a days worth of stubble and if it wasn't so in characteristic I would find it sexy. His grey eyes are sunken and deeper than usual. They are underlined red and unhealthy. He's not well. He's not himself. And I'm scared of him...more than I have been before. I slowly step towards him and still he remains motionless. I stand next to him, almost close enough to reach out and touch him. My wounded fifty in such a state I can hardly stand to look at him.

I lower myself onto my knees next to him, placing my hands on my knees, ironically, as nothing about him seems in control for the first time since I met him.

"Christian?" I whisper his name almost inaudibly. He doesn't react at all. I watch him remain motionless. I wait for what feels like hours and glance back at Doctor Flynn. He has stepped just a bit closer and nods me to continue. I welcome his presence.

"Christian, please look at me..." I whisper as I lean into him, moving carefully to brush a strand of copper hair from his eye. His hand snaps to attention, catching me by surprise as he clenches my wrist before I can reach him. My hand hangs open in the air as he tightens his grasp on my wrist and then releases it. Without a word I know touching him is not an option. I also notice that Doctor Flynn has moved to the piano. Christian's sudden movement alerted him, too. He boosts my confidence. But the vacant look on Christian is more than I can stand. My eyes gloss over with tears. I lean in closer to him.

"Christian, please...I need you."

He blinks quickly at my words, and I know he is processing them. He slowly turns to face me, finally raising his grey, sad eyes to mine. I try to smile. He takes me in and having his eyes on me for the first time in weeks sends a charge through me that I had forgotten I missed. But his face quickly hardens and I see the fire behind it.

"You shouldn't be here. Get out of my house."

He stares back at me with eyes I barely recognize and all at once I want to turn and run. I don't know him anymore...as quickly as he became attached to me, could he unattach as quickly just as I had always feared? I remain motionless, still kneeling beside him, locked in his cold gaze. His nostrils flare. He lifts his ice-filled tumbler between us and in one swift move he throws it past me. I duck instinctively, covering my head. The glass sails by me, spilling ice as it soars toward the wall, eventually meeting it and shattering with a loud crash. I scream to myself even as I cover my head. I notice Christian completing the movement it took him to throw his glass but something is wrong. He nearly falls to the floor as he turns and recoils from the exertion, both arms bracing him on the cold tile floor. He is heaving. I can't help but reach for him to help, but he shakes me off again, weaker this time but strong enough to get his point across.

"I said get out. You need to get away from me."

His voice is shaky and resonant, and he doesn't look up at me. I move back slightly and then turn to Doctor Flynn. I am in desperate need of backup.

Flynn quietly approaches us and takes his raincoat off. He slings it over the piano without looking and something slips and shatters on the floor as he does. We both turn to follow the noise but Christian doesn't move. I notice it's a glass ash tray. Filled with the butts of a few cigarettes and the foul smelling ash they've left behind. I sneer at it. Who the hell would have been smoking?! Surely not Christian. Elena maybe? Leave it to her to move in as soon as the opportunity arose. Doctor Flynn is inspecting it closer than I am. His brow is furrowed. He picks up the remains of a half smoked cigarette and whispers to himself.

"These haven't been smoked. Just lit."

He's talking to himself but I fight to take in the information.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I answer back almost unaware of Christian's form still heaving between us. Flynn's eyes turn to Christian and mine follow. His head still hanging between his arms, his chest heaving. His body a defeated slump of what it was just two weeks ago.

And then I notice something completely unsettling. At the hem of Christian's white undershirt. It's stained...soiled...part of it stuck to his abdomen. I squint my eyes in the dying cloudy Seattle light to try to make sense of it. Flynn had descended on Christian, kneeling on one knee on the other side of him, glancing over his side and examining the same confusing mess that I am.

"Sit back, Christian."

Flynn is all business now and I have to say in impressed at how well Christian minds him. He rolls back off his hands and leans against the leg of the piano, not unlike the way we found him.

Oh my God.

Flynn recoils slightly as I can't help but raise my hand to my mouth and utter his name.

The hem of his shirt is slightly blood stained and yellow. Parts of it stuck to his skin and other parts black and charred in small intense circles. I know immediately what I am looking at and I feel sick. I have to fight the bile down in my throat.

"Anastasia, I need you to go get Taylor and have him call Dr. Fielding. Right now." His voice is stern and as much as I don't want to move from Christian's side I think I may throw up if I don't. I nod slightly and scramble to my feet.

"How long since you've eaten?" Doctor Flynn handles Christian delicately and I'm almost amused that someone is asking Christian this for a change.

"I fired Taylor." Christian answers back.

"He's downstairs. It's alright."

I am backing towards the door trying not to trip over my own feet as my tears finally release and stream down my cheeks. I keep telling myself...this is not your fault. This is years of damage you can't begin to understand or undo. You didn't do this. But why can't I believe it? I back all the way to the opposite wall and it catches me. I pause there for a minute, still watching Christian.

"How long since you've eaten, Christian." Doctor Flynn persists and Christian lowers his head and shakes it slowly as he looks for the answer.

"What day is it?" Christian answers humbly.

What day is it?! How long had he been like this?! Has he been to work!? What is he doing?!

Doctor Flynn notices me.

"Anastasia, I need Taylor. Right now."

For some reason I am seeing red. Maybe it's my ridiculous desire to take care of him but I can't stand it anymore. I charge back across the room, ignoring Doctor Flynn.

"What day is it?! Christian what are you doing?" I'm yelling towards him as I move back across the room. Flynn watches me but Christian seems unaware. I round the piano and as the skies open up just outside the glass so do I. Tears stream down my face as I yell at him.

"How dare you. You're not a baby, Christian!..."

"Ana, please" Doctor Flynn tries to settle me but I blow him off.

"This isn't you. Look at you. I want my Christian back. You have people that need you."

Doctor Flynn has moved for his jacket and is looking frantically through his phone. I take the moment alone with Christian to try somehow to get through to him.

I take a deep breath and sink to the ground beside him, tears still wetting my face. How could he sit there and not react to me? This man who said he couldn't bare to see me cry?

"Look at me, damn it!" I'm shouting at him even though I'm within inches of him and I grab him by the shoulder and turn him towards me. He winces. Hard.

I immediately regret manhandling him. Or belittling him for that matter. I notice his shirt has lifted enough to reveal the skin of his abdomen and I barely take it in before I gasp audibly and weep unashamedly. Oh, my Christian! He belly blood stained with cigarette burns. The rest of his skin pale and gaunt.

"You were right, Ana." He whispers weakly as he raises his eyes to mine, "I am a fucked up son of a bitch. And you need to get away from me."


	2. Chapter 2

His words echo in my ears.

A fucked up sonofabitch. My words. Could I have picked a worse thing to call him? Even if in that moment they were exactly fitting and called for I am suddenly filled to the brim with impossible regret. I close my eyes. Is there any undoing this?

"Leave."

He's whispering now, almost inaudible, and his eyes are once again fixed on the Seattle sky line as Taylor bursts into the room, still on the phone with the doctor I can only assume. Taylor passes the phone to Dr. Flynn and bounds easily across the room. I assume he will move to Christian but instead he kneels by my side and gently pulls me to my feet.

"Let's go." He quietly tries to lead me but I resist. I look at him, wondering what he is trying to do. He knows Christian needs me. Doesn't he? But even as my eyes ask him why he's trying to escort me, he continues to press my shoulders away from Christian.

"Miss Steele. He wouldn't want you to see him like this."

I look back over my shoulder at Christian. I wonder when the tears will stop seeping from my eyes. Taylor. As usual, I know he's right. And I'm again amazed by his loyalty to this man. But it's too late...some things you can't unsee. I turn away from Christian and lean into Taylor for support. We pass Doctor Flynn and I am comforted knowing that he is moving to Christian's side.

"I'll help you to your room. Why don't you relax there while I try to get things under control here. You look like you could use some sleep."

Right, again. Not that I will find sleep easy to come by. I walk with Taylor to my room, and strangely it feels like coming home. I inhale deeply as I enter it. Taylor pats my back gently as I turn to face him.

"Promise me you'll come for me as soon as the doctor is here."

I plead at him with my eyes, my body slumping in exhaustion.

"Promise me you'll rest and I will."

He smiles just a touch as he backs away from my door, pulling it closed. I hear him move from my doorway and I turn back to examine my surroundings. Unchanged since I left them. I slip out of my shoes and wearily move to my bed, sinking into it and unleashing a floodgate of emotions. Sadness. Guilt. Anger. How do I have any tears left? I barely notice them soaking the pillow as I drift off against my own will.

My eyes are sore and swollen as they flicker open and notice the lights of a darkened Seattle skyline. Fuck. How long did I sleep? I clumsily rise from bed and out of my room, trying to smooth my hair as I do. Still barefoot, I make it to the great room and immediately look to the piano.

Did I dream it all?! No Christian, no ash tray, no Flynn, no broken glass. I walk around to the kitchen only to find it spotless as well. Suddenly I'm not alone.

"I trust you feel better."

Doctor Flynn greets me warmly from behind. I turn and attempt to offer him a smile.

"Taylor said he'd wake me..."

"He tried." Flynn interrupts, "you needed your rest. You were as much help as you could have been."

"I need to see him." I whisper pleadingly, anticipating resistance.

"Soon." He is coddling and I don't like it.

"Now." I say, indicating with both my voice and my posture that this is not up for discussion. Flynn runs a hand through his hair and exhales. He nods faintly and I know he won't fight me. I slink past him and try to steady my feet and my breath as I move towards Christian's room.

I gently slide the door open a crack to see Taylor standing in the window. He hears me enter and turns only slightly, gazing first at the bed and then towards me. Without a word, he crosses the room and moves towards the door. I am anticipating more resistance but this time it doesn't come. Taylor slips past me and out of the room, walking down the hall without even a backward glance. I am silently grateful.

I walk into the room, shaking. I round the door and push it closed behind me. Christian is tucked safely into the center of his bed. Crisp sheets tucked up around him, his copper hair wet and messy around his freshly shaven face. Did Taylor bathe him I wonder absent mindedly as I take him in. He is still frail, but more of the Christian I know and less of the shell he was even hours ago. I move to the side of the bed and gently sit on it. He stirs.

His grey eyes slowly flicker open. They focus first on the ceiling and then...as he inhales sharply...slowly...he turns them to mine. I offer him a slight smile but he doesn't return it. Instead he stares at me as though I am a mythical creature. Moments pass. We stare at each other...both unsure what to say. Finally he slices through the silence with a tired, low murmur.

"You're still here."

He whispers as if he is in awe.

"I should never have left" I say slowly after a silent moment of thought, still not sure if I believe my own words and sure he doesn't. He turns his gaze from me.

"I can't give you what you want." He is so distant it's as if he isn't talking to me. It stings. I fumble with my hands unsure of how to say what I need to say.

"Christian. You're all I want."

My voice cracks. This...I know I mean. But I'm afraid to lay my heart out with him now. He says nothing. He doesn't turn.

"Please." Still nothing.

"I love you..." I'm not sure the words even come out they are so small, but the tightening in his chest let's me know he heard me.

"You shouldn't." He is broken. And still breaking as he speaks. How do I fix this?

There is a darker silence and it hangs in the air like a thick blanket that almost chokes me. He is stoic in his resolve and I see him content in his unloveable mess. I stand and walk from the bed, turning my back to him to mask my tears. I hear him shift slightly.

"You're crying." He whispers, his voice husky, gravely and low. I can hear a slight tinge of familiarity this time. He's wounded but worried. I turn back towards him and place my hands, still dewy from wiping my cheeks, at my sides. I want him to see he isn't the only one hurting here.

"Yes."

My voice betrays me as I stand before him crying. Even though I am standing tall and he is laying beneath me, I can feel the familiar charge and the energy between us crackles and pops as it starts to return to it's normal balance. Without kneeling before him physically I feel myself do it emotionally as he looks me over the way he did the first time he saw me.

"Don't cry." His voice is an echo. It hurts him to see me like this as much as it hurt me to see him bloody and broken on Escala's cold floor. And as I watch him through cloudy eyes...I can see his face change. His resolve breaks. His eyes themselves glass over and shine. His lower lip quivers. There are words trapped in his throat, I can almost see them there. For a second I see the small boy inside him emerge. I take a step towards the bed as I raise the back of my hand to wipe a tear from my jawline.

But he shifts.

He breaks his gaze and returns to his loneliness. He is staring at the ceiling and I catch him wincing a bit as he shifts under the sheets. He adjusts himself dutifully and I catch a glimpse of the gauze that is perfectly wrapped around his torso. For as many times as my heart belabored the tiny scars on his chest and damned the man that put them there, the idea of a new set of them that are self inflicted gives me a new resolve and purpose.

I lower my tear soaked hands again and grasp the hem of my tshirt. Without a thought as to why, I carefully pull it over my head and toss it to the chair beside me. The noise regains his attention and he can't help himself. He turns with an arched eyebrow as I stand before him. His eyes run over my body and my clean white bra as I reach back to release my hair from my pony tail. He inhales. He doesn't know what I'm doing any more than I do.

I hook my thumbs in my jeans and slide them down without unbuttoning them. I don't take my eyes off of him as I know he is assessing the fact that I have lost enough weight since leaving him to do this. He frowns.

But his frown is fickle and gone as quickly as it came. I stand up straight and step from my jeans. I stand before him in laughably virgin white panties and a bra, and as he takes me in I reach behind myself to undo the bindings of at least half of my attire. I let the straps slip down my shoulders and arms and then drop it to the floor.

I pause for a moment making sure he is still with me. His grey eyes are losing their steel as they trail over my breasts and back up to my eyes. My chest heaves under his gaze. I take a step towards him. He could reach out and touch me if he wanted. I'm that close. But he doesn't. I want to give him more. More what? Temptation? Reason to want me? Reason to love me?

I tuck my thumbs into my panties and lower them. As they are slowly gliding down over my thighs, exposing myself to him in a way I am desperately trying to not feel insecure about, he raises the arm closest to me and puts his outstretched hand over the outside of my thigh...effectively stopping me from lowering them further.

"Don't." He whispers still, but there is command in his voice.

My ego is shaky. My inner goddess is feeling unwanted and it isn't sitting well with her. I watch his face for signs and try to maintain my confidence as I push against his hand. He let's it fall as I touch it with my fingers...the silky material of my bottoms the only thing between our hands. I wriggle them down until I can step out of them as gracefully as possible. His hand lingers on the outside of my bare thigh. His eyes travel too slowly back up my body. I feel myself get wet under his gaze.

"You should have stayed away from me."

His hand travels my thigh to my hip, his fingers barely grazing me. My body erupts in goosebumps as he speaks. There is desire there.

"Probably." I answer him with a hint of sarcasm and his eyes lift to meet mine. I cock a lazy half smile hoping he senses my tone.

"But I didn't. And now I can't."

We stare at each other for a moment as if we are silently accepting the fact that whether it is fate or curse...we are stuck together.

I take an extra step towards the bed until my knees are hitting it. I reach down and turn the sheet down, my throat hitching as I reveal more of his gauze wrapped torso. I stop momentarily.

"How would you feel if I hurt myself?"

I am brazen suddenly in my question. He swallows hard and watches me. All of the sudden he is the errant school boy.

"I couldn't bear it." His honesty is too appealing. I press on.

"What if you thought it was because of you?"

He frowns. Discontent. Trying to assess my question. I arch my eyebrow to remind him to answer out loud.

"Worse. But this wasn't..."

I know where he is going and it doesn't matter.

"Maybe. But what if it seemed that way."

I soften my voice as I lower into his bed beside him, careful to be gentle with him even as my weight slightly moves him on the mattress. I'm beside him now.

I lay out long and right beside him. My need for him coursing through me like fire as I stretch out beside him. I press against him as he quietly wraps the sheet around my lower half which I subsequently press slowly against the side of his hip. My breasts are pressing into the side of his chest as I lay down on his outstretched arm. I nuzzle my head into the crook of his chest inhaling as I do and becoming lost in his scent. I still sense his apprehension.

"I'm sorry. For the things I said." My voice cracks beneath the weight of my words. A tear escapes my eye and rolls into his arm. He reaches his other hand to wipe it and let's it linger on my cheek. His movement is still too labored.

"I'm sorry. For the things I did." He whispers his apology to me and I know he means it. "I will never. Ever. Hurt you again." His words are stern and pleading and sound. Our eyes lock as we lay together. I press against him tightly to tell him with my body that he is forgiven. The truth is I would take a million floggings with whatever instrument he wanted to use if it meant undoing the past few weeks.

His eyes are heavy as are mine. And we stare at each other through heavy eyelids without another word.

And sometime, after long minutes pass...we drift to sleep that way.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't know how long we have been asleep when my eyes finally open and take him in again. He sleeps so peacefully and I watch him for a second before letting my eyes trail down his chest to his bandaged torso. I lightly run my fingers across the gauze almost grateful that it allows me to touch him. He stirs slightly and groans to himself as he slips to join me in wakefulness.

"Hi" I mouth the word to him and no sound comes. He does the same. We both smile slightly. He stretches his lean torso and winces slightly.

"How does it feel?" I ask, propping up into my elbow. He takes a minute.

"It's fine." He lies. I raise an eyebrow and cock my head.

"It hurts." He answers truthfully this time.

I move to leave the bed, wrapping the sheet at my waist.

"Let me get you something for the pain..." I start, but he reaches for me and grabs my wrist.

"I deserve the pain, Anastasia"

His voice in plain and determined. I turn to look at him. Fifty, will you never learn?

I turn back on the bed to face him. His face is pained and stern, as if he is settling into his self induced prison of pain. I move to cover my nakedness which he immediately uncovers again. He looks as though he wants to touch me but is demonstrating restraint. I bite my lip at the thought and while I am sure he notices...he does not reprimand me. I study this new Christian and decide to test his resolve.

I remove the sheets and lower it not only from me but from him as well. I can see his growing erection pressing firmly against his blue cotton pants that are slung low on his hips so as not to disturb his bindings. My eyes travel over him as I turn into my hands and slowly raise a leg to straddle him. As I lower myself, he adjusts accordingly and cocks a curious eyebrow. I gently grind my naked hips down into him and though he tries to remain stoic I feel him ache beneath me.

"Anastasia, I don't think..." He starts and I press a finger hesitantly to his lips, unsure how far I can push my luck.

"You can't fuck me, Christian, I know." I lean over him and run my hand over each of his bicep in allowed territory. I lean over him until my nipples swell and brush the warm skin of his chest. I lean over his mouth and watch him take me in. My inner goddess knows this is the moment to sink or swim, so here goes.

"...but I can fuck you."

His eyes seem to fill with wonderment for a minute as if the idea is something completely foreign to him. And I can see him pouring over the idea in his head. I slowly move on him to push a knee between his thighs, opening his legs for me. He can't mask his groan. I press my knee gently against his erection and his eyes flutter closed. I take my hands from his arms and slowly run them down the bed sheets beside him. He presses his hips slightly up against me and I see him wince at the effort.

"Just relax, Christian. Lie still. Tell me what to do." My voice is throaty and commanding and I hardly recognize it. But I know that even in the position I am in...I need his control. I desire it. I'm desperate for it. His lips turn up for a moment and he smirks at me.

And in true Christian form...he doesn't miss a beat.

"Take me inside of you."

I can tell this new scenario excites him. His breath is heavy and hot. I can hardly contain my own arousal and I suddenly realize I'm so wet that I'm leaving my mark on his pajama bottoms.

"Now." He commands and I snap back into reality.

I dip my thumbs into his waistband and push them down just far enough to let him spring free. Feeling his skin on mine is almost more than I can take. I gingerly take him in my hand and stroke him a few times.

"I said now, Anastasia." He grumbled between gritted teeth as I squeeze him. But not wanting to disappoint him I move him between my legs and lower my weight into him until he is completely engulfed inside me. He fists clench the sheets as I hold his hips and cry out. I need to collapse into him. It's too much. Too overwhelming. He starts lifting into me and slowly we find our pace together. Because I am on him and controlling the power we move with, I'm able to keep him from pounding me like I know he wants to. Instead we slowly and simply make love until I feel him release inside of me unannounced and I let myself go, crying his name as I do.

I roll off of him and find my place at his side again. He almost immediately drifts to sleep. I listen to him for a minute and then, when I'm sure he is resting, I rise from the bed and walk to the bathroom. I need to check in with Taylor and Flynn, but right now I need a shower more. I catch my reflection and I'm such a disaster I'm suddenly embarrassed he's even seen me. I take in my too skinny nakedness before moving to twist the shower on. Without looking I reach for the handle and feel something wrapped around it. I twist it in my fingers, wondering if it's just a washcloth...but it's something more foreign. I stretch a bit to flick the light switch that turns the fun light over the open shower. The light pervades and even as steam fills the room I can now see what I am dealing with.

My stomach lands somewhere between my knees and my toes.

I pull and twist until the damp black fabric comes undone from the shower handle. I pinch it between y fingers and hang it in the air in front of me to examine it. The lacy, transparent fabric I barely enough to cover anything but I realize immediately I am dealing with a pair of women's underwear. They don't belong to Christian. And they certainly don't belong to me.


	4. Chapter 4

I try to register my emotions. They are flying at me from all angles now. I drop the panties to the floor as if they are on fire and promptly turn the water back off. No sense pretending a shower will make this feel better.

Am I mad? Hurt? Embarrassed? Offended? All of the above? I look at the wrinkled pile of black fabric on the ground and try to assess it further like some kind of crime novel detective? Is she old or young? Heavy or thin? None of the answers matter as much as the biggest one. Why are her underwear in Christian's shower?

I hear movement in his room that shakes me from my own private inquisition. I turn and face the doorway, listening for voices. I hear the muffled discussion of two men that I can only assume are Christian and someone else. I sneak to the door and grab a robe off of the hook to wrap up in as I do. For a moment I pause...wondering if the robe has been worn before...but I smell his intoxicating Christian smell all over it and I nuzzle it gently, begging it to help me forget what I just saw. I tie it loosely at my waist and open the door just in time to see Taylor leave, and Christian stretching lightly beside his bed. He has a quizzical look about him by the time he turns to meet my gaze.

"Change your mind about that shower?" He probes me gently. I know that he is smart enough to know already that something is wrong. I only nod a slight yes and shrug my shoulders. He takes a few steps towards me uneasily. Well, as uneasy as he ever seems I suppose.

"What is it?"

His question hovers in the air for a long while as I try to suppress the lump in my throat. Finally I decide I need to speak before I cry instead.

"I thought...you might want to clean it first."

I can't look at him now, I don't know why, but I can tell by the way he stands silently that I have confused him. He passes by me without a word or a touch and enters the bathroom. I close my eyes against what is inevitably about to happen. He's gone too long. I feel him reappear behind me before I see him there. He just stands though. He doesn't rush to an explanation. Does he not feel like he owes me one?

Without turning I walk towards the bed and drop the robe into of the sheets as I gather my clothes from the night before.

"Anastasia..." He starts and stops.

I'm almost laughing to myself as I clumsily work to get myself dressed.

"You know, Christian, I really am just a stupid naive child aren't I?"

He's moving towards me now and I know I need to move faster if I want to beat the now all too familiar rush of tears.

"Ana, please..." His pleading is so sincere I can hardly bear it.

"Don't, Christian." I am pulling my hair through the elastic to tie it off my shoulders as I turn to face him. He looks confused, upset. He looks...caught.

"I really assumed that you were hurting like I was. I felt...guilty. I felt...responsible. I felt like you missed me like I missed you. You probably didn't notice I was gone."

I'm shuffling past him quickly, unwilling to let him change my mind. So much so that I make it to the door before I realize he isn't even trying. I turn and face him and he is staring stoic at the floor. I whimper to myself.

"Aren't you going to even pretend to care? Aren't you going to give me the decency of an explanation?"

He turns to me, steeled against my apparent dramatics.

"There's no explanation you would understand."

He answer is short and clipped. He watches me for a response and I offer a fake laugh that masks my pain.

"Never hurt me again. That's what you said. I'm such a fool."

I turn and head into the hallway. It seems to take forever to reach the grand room as if Escala has stretched in my absence. I hear him enter the hall behind me and quicken my pace, unsure that I want to hear whatever explanation he has decided to offer. I meet Taylor just shy of the elevator who glances towards Christian over my shoulder before placing his hands gently there to stop me.

"Please, I need to go." I beg him. He knows how Fifty works. He knows I'm too fragile for these antics right now, doesn't he? How quickly I was replaced. I wonder if Taylor has been doting so kindly on someone new the past few weeks while I cried myself to sleep and forced a zombie like appearance during the 8 hours I had to be in public. I am suddenly and surprisingly out of sympathy for Christian Grey.

Taylor looks genuinely obtuse and unaware of what I am feeling. I think that maybe it comforts me. I hear Christian come up behind me and Taylor releases his hold on my shoulders.

"Anastasia, please. Don't go."

"I'm sure you're very busy..."

"Stop this. Now."

His voice has changed. My dominant is back, and he is taking no prisoners. My inner goddess bows and drops to her knees. My outer one turns slowly to face him.

He eyes Taylor who turns to leave without a word.

"Will you sit and talk to me? Please?" It's a question but it's not a request.

"Will you give me an explanation?"

Christian is moving towards his office as I ask. We are talking in his office? This can't be good. He turns at the door, waiting for me to join him.

"Not one you'll like."

I swallow hard and follow him. After all, how much worse can this all get?


	5. Chapter 5

_***Flashback...Christian's POV***_

It's amazing I think how long a person can fixate on something. I mean, at least this person. This fucked up mess of a person. I'm laying in bed literally staring at my phone. Minutes pass before my eyes have to remind me to blink. And sure enough my Blackberry eventually pings or lights up and I grab at it like it's a loaf if bread and I've been starving for weeks. I guess in a way I have. I'm famished.

I squeeze my phone to punish it as it lights up with yet another message from Mia.

_So help me, Christian, you call me back or I'll hunt you down in that palace of yours. Love you. xoxo._

Does she never get tired of this shit? Between Mia and Grace, Flynn and Roz, my phone is getting plenty of action. But none that I care about. In fact I haven't been able to force myself to give a flying fuck about Grey Enterprises for over a week and I know Roz wants to kill me. Maybe I should let her. Put us all out of our misery.

She didn't respond to flowers. Countless texts. An email about Jose's art show. At least a response, Anastasia. A 'go fuck yourself' would be fine. Something.

I guess she did tell me to go fuck myself. I'm a sick sonofabitch. I've heard her words echoing in my head for weeks. I can't shake them. Not can I shake the look on her face when she said them or when she quietly slipped through my fingers and into the elevator.

Fuck.

This is too much. This is why I don't let people in. Lesson learned, Grey. You sick sonofabitch.

My phone pings again. I jump at it once more, only to be disappointed and put off. Flynn.

_Christian, you've missed a second appointment. If business has you out of town, please let me secretary know. Otherwise I may pay you a visit at Escala. JF_

Flynn. I'm beyond your help now. I tried. To fit in. To be the man she wanted and needed so badly. To give her the more she so desperately craved. And look where it got me. Drunk in my bed clutching a cell phone and a model airplane. Like a desperate asshole.

Anastasia fought to bring me out of my darkness. I can see that now. And for moments I felt worthy of that. But deep down I know better. I always have. Flynn always has.

Again my fucking phone pings and I'm tempted to throw it.

I look at it and change my mind.

_R__oz was in the salon today. She's concerned. So am I. I'm always here._

Elena. Somehow she still always manages to sense when something is more fucked up with me than usual. I run my thumb over her words again...I'm always here. She's right. She's my constant. Even if she is an epic disaster and answering her text would be like booking a seat on the Titanic. But what have I got to lose.

_I could use an ear._

I text her back simply, knowing she will stop what she is doing and give me one. She always does.

I put the phone down and force myself from bed. I stagger to my feet and I can honestly say I can't remember ever feeling this trashed. My jeans are misbuttoned and my white tshirt is atleast two days old, I've lost track. Which is good because with Gail gone, laundry is piling up in my closet and I don't care to do it myself.

I walk slower than usual taking in the vastness that is Escala as I finish the bourbon in my hand. No Gail, no Taylor...fired them both. No need dragging them down with me. I stop for a second and look toward the entryway and elevator and it's like I can see her there spitting at me...not letting me near her. I'm a monster to her now and she was right to leave. They all are. I tear my eyes away from it and walk through to the kitchen. There are empty booze bottles, empty glasses, God there is shit everywhere and I just don't care. Grace would flip a switch if she saw it like this. Luckily she assumes in overseas right now or she would be here. The only time I retain radio silence with her is when I'm gone...and she wouldn't understand that right now...I AM gone.

I can feel the booze running through me and I punch the bridge of my nose fighting off a head ache. My eyes blur as I open them and I know I need to stop drinking but I don't. I pour a full glass and then knock the bottle over sitting it down. No ice. Just booze. It's lost it's taste to me now, it's just a means to an end.

I choke down half a glass of it and then without knowing why at first in walking towards the playroom.

Her red room of pain. She should have stayed away when I told her to and she could have saved me a lot of fucking grief. And money.

I slide the door open and step inside. I can see her there, too. Her lips, her delicate braid, the way she would look at me to tell me he trusted me even though she knew better. I throw my glass and watch it shatter across the room. It was already empty. Like this room. It holds nothing for me now. I haven't been back in it since the day I unleashed the monster with her. Didn't think I could, but here I am.

I walk across to where I can see the belt on the floor, frozen in time. I lean to pick it up and notice it's now surrounded by broken glass. I stand back up and walk towards the shards. My bare feet crush them as I hiss. Damnit something has to hurt more than what's going on inside me. Please.

"My God, Christian."

I hear her at the door to the playroom and don't turn to face her. Regardless of how she feels about Anastasia I suddenly feel like what I did to her is going to disappoint Elena. Has she taught me nothing? I turn to face her and realize only then that I'm so drunk I can barely make her out. But she's coming towards me. She takes my arm and pulls me off the glass. She surveys my destruction.

"I'll have Gail come get that."

"Gail is gone. I fired her."

She looks at me, trying to understand.

"Jason then..."

"He's gone, Elena. They are all fucking gone."

She doesn't say anything for a moment and then she releases my arm like it finally dawns on her.

"Miss Steele?"

I turn my face from her and look around the playroom again.

"I'm a fucked up sonofabitch. She had no business being near me."

Elena reaches for my forearm. I brush her off.

"Don't. Don't you dare try to coddle me right now. You know I'm right."

She inhales cooly and withdraws her hand.

"You are who you are Christian. Not everyone is going to understand that."

Her words don't help. At all. In fact they infuriate me. I turn to her and start walking. With fucking purpose. Soon enough she is backing away from me quickly. I keep walking at her until her back hits the wall. Hard. She winces as I pin her there. I can see her looking to find words to calm me the fuck down. They don't exist.

"No one but you, right? You understand me?"

She shakes in her too expensive heels. It always amuses me that she gets dolled up to come see me on the hopes that it'll make a difference.

"I do, Christian. You know I do. You need to..."

"Understand, yes. You're as much of a fucked up monster as I am..." my words sting, I can tell, "so you understand me. But love me? No. Not even you. So why the hell would I have expected her to be able to."

Elena raises an eyebrow.

"Christian. I don't know love anymore than you ever will."

I can't decide how to take her words but she says them so calmy and surely I want to spit on her or slap her, I don't know which. I'll never know love? I was starting to wonder. Stupid, Grey. You know she's right. You can fuck. That's about it.

I push off the wall and I can tell she is genuinely afraid of me. I almost fall back as I move away from her. I run my fingers through my hair. What have I done. What am I doing now. What am I going to do?!

She's moving towards me and her hands are on my shoulders as I hold my head.

"Christian, calm down. This isn't you."

I look up at her. Interesting.

"You don't know who I am. Whatever you think I am? I'm worse."

She closes the space between us and tries to calm me.

"You're not a monster. The things you need are foreign to Anastasia Steele. You knew that. The first time you told me about her. You knew, Christian. This was inevitable."

I listen to her carefully. She is right. This shouldn't have surprised me. What surprised me is I let it get this far. I was addicted to her. I thought it was love but maybe that's all it was. Addiction. I needed to conquer her just to prove that I could. And look what I did to her. She'll be as scarred as I am. I'll be her monster now. The thought sends me reeling. I imagine her finding comfort in someone else to undo the damage I've inflicted on her.

I peel away from Elena, seeing red. I move quickly to the wall and grab a leather riding crop. I hear Elena step back. I turn to her with some kind of cat-like dexterity and damn near force it into her hands. She takes it, as if she has a choice. I am tearing my shirt over my head before I realize I am, and tossing it to the side.

I kneel in front of her and place my hands on my knees, desperate for something to take the ache away.

"I need to be punished."

Elena stands still before me, still caressing the crop and I know she can't help herself. She just looks at me so I raise me eyes to her.

"Do it. Punish me. Please."

I expect her to argue but she doesn't. She's right, she knows what I need. I'm a sick fuck. Maybe this will help.

Her heels click as she moves behind me and I feel her run the crop along my lower back. She can't resist. My eyes close to my drunkenness until I feel her lift it and bring it down hard. I hiss at the sting but I love it, too. I deserve this. Ana didn't. I rock forward as she does it again but then I hear the crop drop to the floor.

"Christian, I'm not doing this. Look, let's get you to bed..."

I groan at her as I fall forward into my hands and then use them to push myself to stand. I turn on her and she is trying to calm me.

"I deserve it. I want it."

I plead with her in a voice I don't understand and I see fear in her eyes again.

"Jesus, Christian, what have I done to you." She moves to touch my cheek and I shove her from me. I've never really manhandled her that way and it feels really good. I grab for my tshirt. She totters on her heels and then falls, letting the bed catch her.

"Don't give yourself too much credit, Elena. I was bleeding out long before you twisted the knife."

I back away from her and leave the playroom, slamming the door and leaving her inside. I notice her purse is in the hallway. Not knowing my at first I pick it up and look into it. I see a pack of cigarettes and grab it, fumbling inside if it for a lighter, too.

I hold them both in my hand as I walk back towards the piano. I don't think even playing it would calm me now. And really I'm too fucking gone to make out the keys. I pull a cigarette from the pack. Never been much of a smoker since my first bout with rebellion in high school. Always had a bad relationship with cigarettes. I remember Grace finding me smoking behind the house and just weeping. She still thinks I'm salvageable. Poor Grace. If she only knew what a monster her son was.

I light it slowly, trying to focus on the flame as it flickers. The cigarette hangs from my lips and the taste is enough to make me sick. I choke it back. In a move I don't really understand, I take the cigarette from my mouth and stare at it. Only one pain in my life has hurt as much as I'm hurting now, only one thing can take the sting of missing my sweet Ana away. I turn the cigarette and lift them hem of my shirt before plunging it down. I scream out. It fucking burns and stings and aches at the same time. I hold it there as long as I can stand and then it drops from my shaking fingers. I assess the damage and see a bright red perfectly round circle just next to my belly button. I hiss at it, it still fucking burns. And I realize it's a distraction. Maybe that's all it was for the asshole who gave me the matching set. I take the pack of cigarettes and walk around the piano, slumping down and watching over the Seattle sky as I pull another one out to light.

I deserve this.

* I know, I know...we all hate Elena. But trust me folks, it'll be ok! Thanks for all the GREAT feedback! I'll keep updating as fast as I can! *


	6. Chapter 6

If you would have asked me a year ago if I would be sitting in Christian Grey's home office watching him sit across from me silently shirtless, I would have laughed you out of town.

But here I am.

We sit there for awhile and I'm waiting for him to produce some contract or binding document that shows I have somehow broken an arrangement I didn't know I agreed to and all hell is about to break loose. He clears his throat.

"You're upset."

He whispers and I have to resist the urge to laugh uncomfortably again. That might be the understatement of the decade.

"I'm upset." I answer, sparing him the details. Upset? About what? You burning yourself? You self-destructing? You whipping me with a belt? Random underwear in your bathroom? I don't know where to start and I'm beginning to feel numb.

"It wasn't my intention to hurt you."

He seems genuine but it's hard to tell where he is coming from anymore. For whatever reason, in this moment, I feel brazen. I remember him telling me it's the submissive that really has the control. Let's see. He doesn't mean to hurt me? Really.

"But you're so good at it." I'm smug. He's caught off guard. While he is studying me I slowly and intentionally bite my lip to remind him that is this moment there isn't a damn thing he can do about it.

"Just so we're clear. You left me. In fact, you all but ran out of here. You ignored my calls. You ignored my emails. You ignored my gifts. You disappear from my life for nearly a month. I guess I'm a little fuzzy on why you'd care what was in my shower."

Damnit. I hate when he outsmarts me. I have to stay on top of things if I want to keep my wits about me with him. He winces, I want to comfort him. But, no. I need my resolve.

"Just so we're clear...you beat me with a belt..."

"You asked me to" he hisses, interrupting me. I pause for only a second.

"Yes. And it was more than I could take. So I had to leave."

"Because I'm a fucked up sonofabitch."

I can tell my words stung him deep, and even though I've apologized, I still wish I could take them back.

"You can be. You choose to be."

My voice is softer now, and I feel myself wanting to care for him in spite of my anger and confusion. He truly is so, so lost. But I can't lose myself because of it. Not again.

"I've tried to understand you, Christian. Your needs. Your lifestyle. And right now the only thing about you I find fucked up is that you could go through the same things I've gone through...feel what I've felt...and turn around and fuck whoever else as soon as I'm out of your system. Did I mean so little to you?"

Christian is studying me as I speak, so quickly as to not lose my nerve. I can feel my eyes swelling. He's right. He can fuck whomever he pleases now. But what does that say about me? Tears escape my eyes at the thought of it. I know this bothers him.

"I didn't fuck anyone."

His matter of fact words are soft and quiet and I can barely look at him. I raise my head slowly and ask him to clarify with my eyes.

"Elena..." He whispers her name and even hearing him say it makes my temperature rise. And not in the good way. What the hell does she have to do with anything? And why are her panties in his bedroom?!

"Keep going." I tell him through tears, unsure I really want to hear more. He inhales deeply, which I can tell hurts, and sits back in his chair a bit.

"I wasn't well. After you left. She came by to check on me."

He pauses but I just stare at him, letting him know he hasn't answered my question yet.

"She was here the night before last. Before you found me. After Taylor helped me back to my room and the doctors took care of things, I needed a shower. I was disgusted with myself. Disgusted you had seen me that way."

I arch a confused eyebrow.

"You were resting. I needed help. Taylor does a lot for me. Showering me was asking too much."

I clench my fists in my lap.

"So you called Elena to come take a shower with you?"

"It's not like that. I knew I could trust her. She helped me clean up."

"She had to get naked to help you clean up? Convenient."

I'm testing his patience now, I can tell.

"No. In fact in pretty sure she ruined a pretty expensive sweater trying to shower me and stay dry. She helped me back to bed and she was soaked. I told her to help herself to whatever she needed to dry off or clean up. She must have showered...changed...both. I don't know. I didn't see her again."

His explanation hangs there in the air between us and I know I have no choice but to accept it. He has made it clear that we will never see eye to eye when it comes to Mrs. Robinson.

I slowly nod and he relaxes a little bit. Just a little. And he's still watching me like a hawk.

"I think I should go. I just have so much to process. I need to clear my head."

Christian stands from his chair and slowly rounds the table, his finger trailing along his desk as he does. Before I know it, he's in front of me.

"I don't want you to go." His voice is pleading now. I stand with him and close the space between us.

"I have to."

"Promise you'll be back."

I swallow. Hard. Oh, Fifty.

"I can't promise that."

He closes the space further, his breath on my face. He takes my right hand in his.

"Then I can't let you leave."

I have to back away from him. He's intoxicating.

"Christian, please..."

"I need you."

His words are simple. They interrupt me and stop me mid-sentence. Why does he have this need for me. Maybe if I could just understand.

"I can't lose you again. You came back for a reason..."

"I came back because Doctor Flynn asked me to."

He's hurt. I see it register in his eyes almost immediately.

"That's...that's the only reason?"

He knows better. Doesn't he? I can't string him along.

"Of course not."

I soften to him. My voice. My posture. Everything is relaxing. He closes the space again and this time I let him. His fingers brush hair from my brow and I close my eyes to it, pressing against his hand gently.

"I'll make this right. Ana. I'm trying."

"I know you are" I'm practically melting under him. How does he do that to me. I open my eyes and snap out of it, taking a step back. He is startled.

I know he's trying. I know he is. But the ball is in my court now. And if this is going to work...maybe I need a contract of my own.


	7. Chapter 7

"A contract?" Christian seems amused as I finally gather the nerve to suggest it out loud.

"What kind of contract..."

Oh, he's uneasy with someone else holding him accountable. Taking control. Good. It's a start.

"The things I want. No...need. No...insist upon."

"Hard limits. We can add them into the con..."

"No," I interrupt him cooly not wanting him to take the ball back into his court, "a separate contract. It's mine. And in fact if you agree to my conditions I don't care what you want to put into yours."

He is stilled. He gazes down at me and I can tell that the competitive nature he can't escape is up for the challenge. After all, it turns him on when I defy him. And it's about to happen.

"I'll get you a pen."

He starts to round his desk but I stop him again. It's starting to become almost fun to tease him.

"No. I don't need a pen. Or a laptop. Or a Blackberry. This will be a binding oral contract. If that's ok with you."

"I'd prefer to have it in writing."

"I know you would. But I trust that you'll respect me enough to remember this because you know it's important to me."

Silence. And it hangs there. He doesn't speak but he slowly nods yes. He moves to sit in the chair opposite of me, and not the one behind his desk. He's one step shy of kneeling before me, his posture is sweet as he sits before me and watches me deftly with his cool grey eyes...waiting for me to continue. I practically expect him to take out a notepad to take notes he looks so much the star student right now.

"Condition one. The playroom. I've spent so much time thinking about it this past month and I just spin in circles. I know you need it. I don't want to change you. It's part of you. But I think the thing that bothers me the most is thinking of all the other girls you've had in there. Anything that happens there...every scene...I imagine you playing it out with someone else. I don't want to be just like everyone else. I want to be different. To you."

His straightens and looks almost pained, as if this idea has never dawned on him before. He takes it in, pulling his eyes from mine as I wait for any kind of response. Finally he looks back at me with a hint of wonder.

"You are different. Have I not shown you that? The fact that we are sitting here right now discussing this?"

I shrug. How is he able to disarm me so quickly. And with clothes on even. He sits back, resigned.

"Fine."

"Fine, what?" I ask unsure of what he is agreeing to since I didn't really get around to posing a request yet.

"The playroom. It goes." No, no that isn't what I wanted. How do I back peddle now. He continues, "we will get rid of everything inside of it. All of it. The music even. And you and I will work on building one of our own. Together. Just for you."

I'm stunned. And he says it so swiftly I wonder if this just dawned on him or he had been planning it all along. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes.

"Does that not suit you, Miss Steele?"

I stutter a little and tuck my hair at my ear. I'm floored. Flattered. And floored.

"You'd do that?"

He leans forward until he sits on the edge of his seat and takes both of my hands, gazing at me.

"For you, Anastasia, yes."

I can't help but smile coyly at him and he returns it. I'm so taken with his suggestion I'm tempted to stop right there...but I glance at his wounded stomach and I know I can't.

"Two. Self care. Now if you can tell me when and what to eat and work out, what birth control to take and when, which toothpaste to use..."

"I've never told you which toothpaste to use..."

I press my finger to his lips. He gets my point.

"If you can worry so much about my health and well being then I can worry about yours. And it's this simple: you need to take as good of care of you as you would of me. I know you would never hurt me, or scar me, so you can't so it to yourself either. There are no exceptions and I will be gone if it ever happens again."

He watches me as I speak and then hangs his head. He's ashamed, I know he is. My control freak boyfriend lost total control. And what's worse it played out on a stage for everyone to see him and pity him. I know he's unglued by it and I try to keep that in mind. I kneel in front of him and put my hands on the cool leather arms of his chair. He raises his eyes back to mine.

"I know you hurt. I can't imagine how you hurt. But I want to. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you understand you're better than you think you are. But I will never look at you the way I found you the other night again. I can't. You tried to destroy yourself. You destroyed me instead. Never. Again."

My voice cracks. Thinking of him laying on the floor, bleeding, drunk, angry and alone. I can hardly bear it. He lifts his hand and catches a tear from my cheek with it. We gaze at each other.

"I'm sorry." He whispers plainly with no other explanation. He doesn't need to. I know he is. His shoulders slouch a bit and I can tell he is hurting and exhausted.

"Let's get you back to bed." I whisper to him and stand, inviting him to stand as well. He does, and as he rises before me he lifts his arms to stretch and winces quietly. I steady him as he rocks on his heels a bit.

"That's your contract? That's it? No sub categories, no specifics?"

"There is one other thing. Well...one other...person...we need to discuss. But right now you need a break and so do I."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes and then presses against me. It's heaven. His chest is hot against mine and I coo under his touch. He runs his hand around the back of my neck and cocks my head, preparing me for his mouth. He leans in until our lips touch and then he speaks.

"Does this mean you're coming to bed with me, Miss Steele?"

I moan as he speaks, pressing himself against me until I can feel his growing desire for me. I want him. More than I can explain. Stay strong, damnit Ana.

"I am." I whisper back but pull from him slightly until he opens his closing eyes and watches me. "I just thought of another condition."

"Altering your contract already?"

"Amending it, yes. Three. Sex is not a band aid. It doesn't fix everything. We need to talk. When things like this happen. You can't just fuck sadness out of me.

We both half-chuckle at the idea.

"Sometimes I like to try..."

I have I stop him before I lose my ground.

"Always. You always try. It doesn't always fix everything. You have to be willing to try other ways. So yes, I am coming to your bed. But just to rest with you and take care of you, for a change."

"Anastasia Steele...you always take care of me."

He's whispering against my forehead as he kisses it.

I think he has heard my words. Without speaking any further we walk hand in hand back down the hall and to his bed. He's slower than usual, but I enjoy it. I help him ease under the covers before drawing the shades and curling up at his side.

"Another first" he whispers. His voice already heavy and tired. His body is warm and I can't help but tuck into him and I'm falling asleep almost immediately as his scent fills my nose. I notice his breathing change and he is asleep.

"I love you..." He whispers it almost inaudibly and it jars me. Say it again! I raise my head from the book of his chest and watch his face. He is asleep. But that's ok. I know he loves me even if has to be unconscious to say it and even if he thinks he doesn't know how to show it. And I love him, too. For all that's worth I do, and there is no turning back now.

I lay back down beside him and drift to sleep in his arms.

The light in my eyes wakes me as I realize in my sleep I have twisted in his arm and am facing the window with my back at Christian's side. But that isn't what wakes me. I'm on fire. He is like sleeping with a six foot, 190 pound hearing pad and I can hardly breath. I'm suffocating in the heat. I unwrap his arm from my left shoulder afraid I'll wake him, but his arm just drops at my side. He's so hot I almost can't touch him. Jesus.

I sit up and turn on my bottom to face him. He's out cold, his lips slightly parted and something is wrong. Against my better judgement I put my hand on his chest and immediately recoil. He's burning up. My back is drenched with sweat where I was against him.

"Christian..." I whisper as I gently shake his shoulder. "Wake up."

Nothing. He hardly breathes.

"Christian." I'm louder now. Again I say it. I'm shouting. Still...nothing. I pull the sheet back to try to startle him and notice his belly is red around his bandage. I shout his name again before leaping from the bed and grabbing a button down shirt from a nearby chaise lounge.

I'm still buttoning it around my otherwise naked body as I bound down the hallway. I'm shouting, I don't know for who. Taylor appears hurriedly from the kitchen with Gail behind him. Even in my panic it's heavenly to see them both. Taylor rushes to me.

"Christian...something's wrong. He won't wake up."

The words are barely past my lips and he is rushing past me towards Christian. Gail comes to my side and takes my shoulder as she produces a cell phone from her pocket.

"I'll get the doctor on the phone...go..."

She nods towards Taylor and I turn to follow him as I hear her telling the doctor to come check on him.

By the time I round the corner to Christian's room, Taylor has lifted him off the bed and scooped him into his arms. I'm all at once impressed with his strength and his legitimate care and love for his boss and friend. But Christian is hanging lifeless in his arms, his head hanging over Taylor's arm, his copper hair sweaty on his forehead but hanging from it at the same time. My heart pounds and then leaps to a halt.

"Taylor?!.."

My eyes are welling up and my voice almost won't come.

"We don't have time. We need to get him to the hospital. Now."

No.

No, Christian...don't do this to me. Please.


	8. Chapter 8

How is it that things seem to move too fast and too slow all at once?

By the time Gail and I get to the hospital my ears and ringing so loud from the sirens in front of us I can hardly think. I stare at the ambulance in front of us cursing myself for not getting downstairs early enough to ride with Christian, but remind myself that Taylor is with him. I didn't even get shoes on. But my cold feet are the least if my concerns.

I'm out of the passenger side door before Gail can so much as say goodbye. And I don't think I shut the door. The ambulance's rear doors fly open and just as two men round the sides of the vehicle they are pulling Christian out of it on a gurney. He's in recognizable behind an oxygen mask and covered in sheets. Taylor hops out deftly behind him and is whispering to the nurses and attendants that rush from the hospital.

"THE Christian Grey?!" I hear one of them whisper and suddenly I'm as angry as I am upset. Who cares who he is, he needs your help. Bitch. I snap out of it and run at Taylor. He puts an arm protectively around my waist just as I'm blinded by a flash. I cover my face unsure of what's happening as I'm rushed into the hospital.

In the mess of things I've lost sight of Christian and I am blinking to get my sight back as I frantically search for him. Taylor leads me towards a few nurses who usher us into some kind of private waiting room. There is a couch and a few chairs, a television blaring the gloomy Seattle weather report and a table with coffee and tea, some of which has already been poured into two cups. Taylor grabs one and offers it to me. I shake it off trying to shake off the cold with it.

"What's happening?" I whisper to him, unsure why. I'm tired, I'm cold and I'm scared and the only person who can make that better is fighting God knows what, God knows where.

"I don't know. But I couldn't risk ignoring that fever. You did the right thing to get me."

I slump down onto the couch and out my head in my hands.

"I don't know what the right thing is anymore."

Taylor sits by me and again offers me a coffee. I take it this time.

"This wasn't your fault. And if you're feeling like leaving is what set this off, you're...well..."

C'mon Taylor, you're not helping. We both know it did.

"I don't have to tell you how complicated a man Christian is. Truth is he's the best friend vie ever had but I don't understand a damn thing about him. Except this. You and I? Gail? Hell, Grace and Carrick? We're like the Red Cross here. The disaster happened a long time ago. We can't feel bad for stopping for a sand which every once in awhile."

I'm looking at him lost. I think I understand his analogy? Maybe? I don't know. He sees my confusion.

"What I'm saying is. We don't take care of ourselves we're no good to him either. You had to leave. And he knows that. So don't you go beating yourself up over it, you hear?"

I nod slowly as I'm crying again. He produced a handkerchief. God, he must own stock. I like him. And I know why Christian likes him.

"We take care of each other too. Ok?"

He pats my shoulder and I smile. There is a knock at the door and a hospital employee enters only half way.

"We've cleared the perimeter Mr. Taylor, and I'm sorry we weren't on it sooner. Dr. Grey is with him now, I've let her know you're here."

He responds with a polite thank you just as she exits. Then he turns to me to answer my unasked question.

"Paparazzi. Suspicions have been raised since he hasn't been in and out of Grey Enterprises. Photographers are dying for something. Hopefully we cut it off at the pass."

What an unfortunate icing to this whole disgusting cake. One more thing to worry about. I slump further into my chair and lean back. Taylor stands up.

"If you're ok, I'm going to track down some shoes for you. And anything else you might need."

I smile.

"Thank you. I'm fine."

He slips out and leaves me alone in my thoughts. Which I hate. I try to quiet my mind by focusing on the weather. It's not helping.

There is a knock at the door and I shake to...realizing I have fallen asleep somehow. I jump to my feet, and only then do I realize they have slippers on them. And that a blanket has fallen from my lap and to the floor. How long have I been asleep?!

Suddenly Grace Trevelyan Grey is at the door. Only she is not her usual self in a smart sweater and immaculate hair. Her white lab coat is disheveled, her light grey scrubs are worn...her hair is haphazard under a hospital cap and her face is all at once tired and concerned. She tries to lift her tired mouth into a smile.

"Hi, Ana. Sweet girl."

It's like seeing me has the same effect on her as seeing her does on me and we crash together in a sloppy embrace. I'm sobbing into her chest like she is my own mother and she is hushing me and stroking my hair through her own tears. I faintly notice Taylor over her shoulder, standing with his hands folded across the hallway. I sniffle and wipe my nose before standing, Grace's arms still on mine.

"Let's go see him."

She is soft and sure before I can ask her what is wrong. I feel ill. What has her so upset? What is she not telling me...yet. We walk slowly down the sterile hallway, Taylor not far behind.

Suddenly, with her hand on my lower back, Grace is talking.

"Christian has severe septis. It's an infection of his bloodstream cause by an infection in his..." She stops and swallows, fighting off tears and I know why. Cause by the burns. Burns he gave himself. Burns that mimic the most heinous and dehumanizing thing he has ever been through. It's too much to think about for her, too. She gathers herself and continues.

"His wounds. They became infected because he was so undernourished and his liver was susceptible to infection because of his blood alcohol level. So it spread quickly. Too quickly."

Too quickly? I stop in my tracks. What is she telling me? I turn to her and pull myself free.

"Is he going to be ok?"

It's really the only thing that matters. I suddenly process the fact that she's been in surgery. How bad is this? And how am I ever going to forgive myself if it gets worse? She reads my face and I trust that she will be honest.

"I hope so, Ana. I truly do. The infection is aggressive. We did an emergency appendectomy to clear an infection there. We will monitor him closely to see how his body reacts to the antibiotics and take it from there. Hopefully avoid any dialysis or anything further or more invasive."

She is pulling her cap off as she speaks and running her fingers through her hair. She looks as emotionally drained as I feel. Her pager goes off and she glances at it quickly. She nods along as she processes it.

"Good, Carrick and Elliott are on their way," she says more to herself than to me, "one of them can get you home."

I frown immediately.

"Home? I'm not going home." I'm stern and I hope she realizes it's not up for discussion.

"Sweetheart you need rest. He is heavily sedated."

"Are you leaving?" I ask her. It comes across more pointed and aggressive than I mean it to, but she lifts the corner of her mouth to smile and inhales sharply before turning to Taylor.

"Mr. Taylor, could you have someone fetch an overnight bag for Miss Steele. Whatever you think she might need to stay comfortable."

She smiles at me as Taylor nods and turns to me as well.

"Anything you can think of?"

I pause for a moment.

"Maybe just...some yoga pants? A shirt or two. Some regular shoes..."

We both smile lightly and he turns to leave until I call after him.

"Taylor, wait."

He stops and glances back towards us.

"The model airplane I left for Christian. Do you know where it is?"

He smiles again and his posture relaxes.

"Next to his bed. Been there since you left."

I quiver a little and I feel Grace look at me.

"Bring it, please?"

He nods in acceptance and then turns to leave. Grace is smiling at me through glassy eyes. She turns and I follow her. We walk passed many rooms before turning a corner to a more private hallway with only a few rooms that all seem to be empty. At the end of the hall there is a room with light and sound and a nurse exits it as we approach. She nods and smiles at Grace. We walk past a nurses station and I notice two of the young girls nod in my direction and them talk in hushed voices, smiling at me and then each other. I try to ignore it. Grace notices me.

"They've all signed non-disclosure agreements. Keeps us from worrying about shirtless pictures of Seattle's most famous bachelor from showing up somewhere," we both grin slightly and then she glances towards them and back at me, "although that giggling is probably more about the fact that seeing you makes them realize he may not be long for the bachelor world."

Grace takes me gently by the elbow and leads me into the room.

My breath hitches at the sight of him and I feel her resolve weaken, too. He looks so frail. Conncted to IVs, still wearing an oxygen mask.

"It's fluids and antibiotics, sweetheart..." she calms me as I take in everything he is connected to, "and the mask is just to keep his blood oxygen levels up until he's fought off his infection." She assesses his charts and his monitors and smiles before turning back to me.

"His blood pressure is excellent. That's great news."

She leans over him and I can't help but weep quietly as she mothers him. She adjusts the tendrils of hair on his forehead, shifts the tubes in his nose, rubs his cheek with the back of her hand as she cries gently. She's whispering to him and I can't hear. But seeing her tend to her baby is so moving I can hardly watch. She kisses his nose and stands up before chuckling to herself.

"Don't tell on me. That would never fly if he were awake."

I grin, knowing she is absolutely correct. She rounds his bed and takes my hand.

"I'm going to go wait for my husband, and I won't be long. If you need anything at all...use the call button. I'll let the nurses know you're here."

I panic a little, trying to be as calm as she is.

"You're sure?" I'm nervous to let her down again. I wonder if she is aware I'm the one responsible for this spiral. She pats my hand.

"Who takes better care of him than you?"

She eases gratefully out the door and wait for her to clear it before turning back towards Christian. Alone with him I finally weep openly, letting the floodgates open. I walk towards his bed needing him more than ever. Watching him lay there helpless makes my heart pound and ache in a way that takes my breath. I didn't think loving him more was possible...but in the light of a hellish month of missing him and the events is the past few days...I just want to put this all far behind us and run away with nothing but him.

"Christian..." I whisper his name like a prayer and then, still sobbing and breaking all sorts of regulations I am sure, I slip up into his bed beside him. I'm careful to not disrupt his tubes, most of which are on his opposite side. I weep onto his shoulder and silently beg him to speak to me. Or turn his head. Or tell me he loves me again. But he lays still. My head is still buried when I hear Grace's voice at the door. I sit up but I know I won't get out of the bed before she catches me. But she smiles gently and cocks her head...I know I'm off the hook.

"Shhhh, it's ok Anastasia." He holds up her hand and let's me know I can stay put. I assume she was talking to Carrick, but she corrects me.

"Ana, darling, there's someone is like you to meet."

She steps aside and makes room for one of the most striking women I've ever seen. And I choke down bile immediately as I know exactly who it is. The perfectly styled blonde hair and immaculate makeup, the impeccable style of her tailored black pants and shirt, the too-expensive pearls. I feel my fists clenching so hard they might bleed.

Grace escorts her into the room.

"Anastasia Steele...this is my dear, dear friend Elena Lincoln."


	9. Chapter 9

By all accounts, Grace Trevelyan Grey is a bright, educated and astute woman who cares more than anything in this world for her children. So for the life of me I can't imagine how she remains so clueless about the monster she is introducing me to. I am grabbing the sheets to fight off the urge to lunge at her and wipe the smile from her face.

She extends a hand and I ignore it. Wanting so badly to immediately ask Christian's mother if she has any idea that her "dear, dear friend" was ducking her fifteen year old son. For six years. I bite my lip so hard it might breathe and force a pleasantry. Grace had been through enough today. I can't let her world completely unravel the way mine is. Not yet.

"Christian has told me a lot about you." I hiss through gritted teeth and she raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sure he has." Her voice is cool and collected, almost sing songy. It aggravates me further. She looks over my shoulder at Christian as she reaches at the pearls around her neck. She looks genuinely concerned. I'm sure. Wouldn't want anything to happen to her most prized possession. She holds her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, Christian. What have you done?" She whispers as she approaches the foot of the bed.

"Don't touch him."

I bark at her in a voice that impresses me. And she stops in her tracks.

"Don't you dare touch him."

I'm seething now and she reads my emotions with her back to Grace.

"Anastasia...honey..." Grace attempts to soothe me from the door. Elena takes a step back.

"No, she's right. I don't want to cause him any harm."

She is glaring at me as she speaks, annoyed by my claiming him as territory I'm sure.

"Any more harm. Don't you mean you don't want to cause him any MORE harm?" I move to stand beside the bed as I'm speaking and Grace steps further into the room.

"Ana..."

I turn to look at her and I can tell she is shocked and probably embarrassed. I fumble with my fingers.

"I'm so sorry. I'm just...I'm tired...I haven't slept..."

I'm searching for words as I look from Grace to Elena.

"No. I'm sure you haven't." She smiles cooly and looks to speak again but we both turn to face Grace as her pager buzzes.

"Carrick. If you two will excuse me. I won't be long."

I can tell she is unsure about leaving but she hurries to do so anyway. I'm sure she wants to be the one to fill her husband in on Christian's condition.

Elena and I stare at each other for what feels like hours.

"I think you need to leave."

She studies me, playing at her pearls again.

"I know you do. But I don't think that is your call to make." She glances at Christian again and frowns. She studies him and seems to forget I'm even there.

"Let me try this again. Leave." I'm louder now. Direct. This is not a request.

"I have as much right to be here as anyone. Christian told me you don't understand what happened between us and I don't expect you to. But if anyone is going to throw me out, it will be Christian. Not you."

She seems almost sympathetic. In fact as she studies him her eyes glass over. I can't help but watch her. But as I do I start to imagine her. Fucking him. Hurting him. Ruining him. And I see red again. She steps closer to the bed and rests her hand on his. She's testing me.

"You feel guilty..." She asks with a hint of questioning. Trying to turn this into some female bonding. She knows nothing about how I feel. I just stare blankly at her.

"Multiply that by a million. That's how I feel."

I just stare. I know that if I let myself I will get riled up and cause a scene. And right now I just want her away from Christian. Today. Forever. She feels obligated by my silence to continue.

"You won't believe me and I have to live with that. But all I wanted to do was help Christian. I went about it wrong. I couldn't help him. I let him down."

Why is she telling me this? So I'll let her stay? Does she think he can hear her? I'm not buying it. She inhales deeply and wipes a tear from her eye.

"I failed him. And now I guess that's one more thing we have in common."

Her words are like a knife into my gut. I have failed him. She's right. I couldn't save him either. But not helping and intentionally hurting are two very different things.

"We have nothing in common."

She smirks slowly.

"Really...you don't love him then?"

The knife she inserted earlier? She twisting it over and over and I might as well just bleed out. She loves him. She. Loves. Him. And still does. I knew it. And how do I compete with that. I close my eyes to her words and I remember Christian the night before...whispering his love for me in his sleep. I remember him begging me not to leave. I remember him turning his world upside down to accommodate me. I remember I'm different.

"Fine. Stay. And when Grace and Carrick come back...either you tell them what you did to their son, or I will. You sad, sick bitch."

I move to the side of Christian's bed across from her.

"And I said don't touch him. Don't ever fucking touch him again."

She backs away from the bed with a hazy "oh shit" look on her face as Christian stirs in the bed between us.

_Just a short little chapter, I know! Now come on...doesn't anyone out there ever feel sorry for Elena? :)_


	10. Chapter 10

I'm about to launch another verbal assault, mostly to make sure I cut her off if it's her intention to try to discourage me from outing her. My mind it set.

I hear Christian groan between us and I look down in time to see him turn his head towards me and his eyes start to slowly flutter and blink open.

Suddenly Elena disappears from my mind.

I lean down onto his bed with my elbows, and out my hand on his cheek as I smile at him. I mouth the word hi and he returns it.

"How so you feel?" I whisper to him as I try to soothe him by running my fingers over his cheek. His disarmed and content...not his usual tense self. Must be the drugs, I think.

"Stupid." He whispers back, his voice so groggy that it would be drop dead sexy in any other situation. I chuckle at him trying as hard as I can to keep the mood light.

"We've all done stupid things. I guess next will be my turn."

He frowns slightly.

"Not if I have anything to say about it..." he answers back gently as he lifts his IV free arm from the blanket and I meet it, taking his hand.

"You do."

We lose ourselves for a moment. His thumb gently stroking the too of my hand as our fingers lazily get tangled together.

Elena clears her throat.

Christian turns from me to look at her and his posture immediately changes. He tenses, feeling the need to feign control of this situation. He moves to pull his hand from mine, but I tighten my grip and he leaves it there.

"Elena..."

He clears his throat and says her name and I feel my pulse raise.

"Christian." She answers back and smiles at him, keeping her distance. She glances from him to me.

"Anastasia and I were just getting to know each other."

Well, so much for keeping the mood light for his sake. I keep his hand in mine but stand beside him.

"No, we weren't. I already know you and I'm not interested in knowing anymore."

"Ana, please..."

Christian gently tries to interrupt me but I continue.

"No, Christian. I want you healthy. And right now your infection isn't the most threatening thing in this room."

Elena bristles.

"Threatening to who, sweetheart?"

She's smiling at me and I see her trying to play good cop. But that's fine. I'll be bad cop. In fact I'll beat her with my billy club if that's what it takes to remove her.

"Christian...my number four. And the last amendment to my contract. I love you. I think I've loved you since I fell into your office. And I want to be with you in whatever way you need me to be. I know that now. I can't be me without you anymore. But you can't have us both. If you want me, she goes. And if you can't do that, I guess I'll have no choice but to understand your decision. But I will be gone. Today."

Christian is staring at me as I speak and he continues to once I'm done. I feel terrible I this moment because I know I have dropped a bomb on him and I can tell his head is still in a fog. But she is the one who showed up here. She is the one who pushed me. He has to see that.

Right?

I can't read his face and for a minute I think I've made a horrible mistake.

Elena giggles. I break my eye contact with Christian.

"Silly girl. Do you know who you're talking to? Christian Grey. He doesn't do ultimatums. You think you know him. You have no idea who you are dealing with."

"Elena, stop." Christian halts her with his voice and his hand, pulling at his IV as he does. He tries to sit up in bed and he manages to sit up enough to drop his sheet to his waist. He pulls as the monitors on his chest and I can tell he's coming to because he's uncomfortable being strapped to a table now. I touch his arm as gently as I can to tell him to relax.

"Really Christian. Deep down you know who you are. Who we are. She won't understand you anymore than she understands what you and I are together. She ran when you let her in. Who did you call to help you? Not perfect little Anastasia Steele."

I want to punch her. If he wasn't between us I'm pretty sure I would.

"He tried. And I was stupid to ignore him. That was my mistake and I'd take it back if I could. I wasn't scared. I was confused."

"Anastasia, you don't owe her an explanation..."

Christian interjects trying desperately to keep things under control.

"I've always been there for you question. I've never run. I've never been afraid..."

Damnit, he's told her everything. I feel myself shrinking in the room as she speaks and I'm desperate for him to interrupt her again.

"...and I'm not making you choose. You can have me...and you're play things too."

Just as I feel like I've been stabbed in the gut, Christian sits up straightening in his bed and he is gritting his teeth so hard I can see the definition of it in his jaw.

"She's different," he spits his words at her, "and she's made me different, too. Why'd you leave your clothes in my bathroom..."

He's accusatory and harsh and I start to breathe again. She thinks for a moment.

"I didn't realize I did?"

She's obviously lying and she knows he knows that.

"Oh, go fuck yourself Elena. You know exactly what you did and why you did it."

"Maybe you're right Christian. But only because I knew you couldn't be honest with her. How do you expect her to ever trust you?"

I see what she's doing. If she's going out she's going down swinging.

"I've always taken care of you. Christian. Look at me."

His eyes are in his lap and a lump raises in my throat. God damn her, I know that tone. She's assuming her stance over him as his dominant and I can see him fighting his built in tendency to kneel before her, figuratively. No, Christian.

"Sex isn't a band aid, Elena. Fucking me isn't taking care of me. In fact...it really was just you taking care of you...wasn't it."

He's using my words against her and I don't think I've ever loved him more. She doesn't say a word. And thankfully, perhaps, we are interrupted by a knock at the door. I turn, almost smiling, and see Grace reappear flanked by Carrick and Elliot. Carrick is uneasy but Elliot busts right in. He struts over to my side of the bed and somehow I take it as him choosing sides. I gloat.

"Jesus, bro are you fucking crazy? Oh wait I forgot who I was talking to..." He smirks and I elbow him in the ribs right as Grace jumps to her elder (and favorite, I can tell) son's defense.

"Elliot Grey, you watch yourself. He's not crazy, he's brilliant."

Christian remains uneasy even if he is momentarily distracted by his brother. Elliot nods at Elena.

"Mrs. Lincoln, good to see you."

"She was just leaving..." Christian melts me again. Is he truly sending her away?

I gauge Elena's reaction and she is taken aback. But she knows she is on shaky ground.

"Yes. Yes I was." She says too slowly as she and Christian stare at each other. It unnerves me and I see him grit his teeth again. The tension in the room is mind blowing. And suffocating.

She smooths her hair and shirt in an effort to regain some composure.

"I'm glad you're well. Looks like you are being well taken care of."

"You would have no idea..."

I whisper it but loud enough to be heard. I can sense the confusion coming from Christian's family as they watch this all play out.

"Anastasia..." Christian's voice is different now. He's regaining his control of his surroundings and asserting me with his voice. But when I look at him I see something very different. There is fear there. And more than that...embarrassment. With his eyes he is begging me not to kick all the skeletons out of his closet in fronting he people who love him most. And I respect that. He cocks his head, silently asking me to leave well enough alone. So I do.

I turn and watch Elena slip out and I'm intrigued. She passes wordless by Carrick, Elliot and finally Grace. It's like a walk of shame. In fact Grace is staring at her so intently as she leaves that I wonder in that moment if she knows. Does she suspect? Has she always? I see something in her eyes that looks like a mother tiger protecting her cub and decide to myself that someday...I will tell Grace everything even if Christian can't. I know he wants her out of his life but he's been unable to follow through. Grace will be my insurance policy.

"That was fucking weird."

Elliot gracefully breaks the tension and quiet and we all manage to breathe a little easier. Carrick has moved to Christian's side and pats his shoulder lightly.

"If you're trying to keep us on our toes, you can stop trying so hard."

Christian smiles as Grace moves beside her husband.

"You should be laying down." She eases him back into the bed and tucks him gently as she assesses his monitor.

"Your blood pressure is back up. But something tells me that's not infection. Am I right?"

She eyes Christian suspiciously. He looks at her for a moment and then looks away. She glowers slightly.

She knows. I don't know what but she knows. Something.

"Well, as long as you rest and don't do anything I wouldn't do I think you'll be ok to go home by tomorrow morning." Christian smiles and nods gently. "Let's leave these two alone now. Ana...don't hesitate to call the nurses station if he even thinks about pulling the plug on those monitors"

She winks at me. Does she know him or what? I've already had to stop him.

Carrick rounds the table and takes me in his arms for a full fledged bear hug. He pats my back and whispers a thank you in my ear. I tear up for the thousandth time today as I watch them leave. Elliot and Christian are sharing a tender moment of sorts behind me.

"If this infection doesn't kill you...Mia will when she hears about this."

He punches Christian lovingly and then slides out to leave with his parents. He turns as he rounds the door frame.

"Oh and Ana, if he dies, I get Escala." Grace and Carrick both tug on him and just like that they are gone.

"You're lucky to have such a loving family."

I watch them leave and then turn back to him.

"You're my family."

He speaks quickly with out a hint if irony or joking. I slip back up into his bed where I was before world war three erupted.

"And you're mine." I look him over as I speak, making sure he is ok before I lay down, knowing I will break under the weight of my exhaustion.

"Now, if I need to adjust your monitors here, do I have permission to touch your chest?"

I go to reach for one of the round wired heart monitors. He stops my hand firmly.

"Don't push it, Miss Steele."

I smile to myself and slowly lay at his side. He rests his head next to mine. I gaze up at his eyes which are finally regaining some Christian Grey spark.

"Is she really gone?" I ask tentatively.

"You're different," he whispers and he brushes hair behind my ears and then his voice drops considerably, "I can't lose you. Ever again."

He leans in a kisses me. Slowly, deeply. His tongue moves lazily in and out of my mouth and I find myself instinctively pushing my body towards his. Careful, Ana, you know he can't.

He groans in frustration and I smile against his kiss.

"I'm sorry..." I whisper still teasing him unintentionally.

I pull away from his kiss and lay in his shoulder. Sex may not be a band aid, but right now falling asleep next to the man I love is the only fix I need.

_The end? I think? Don't you?! _

_Thanks so much for the amazing feedback and compliments! I'm so glad everyone has enjoyed it! Always looking for suggestions for stories, too!_

_xoxo_

_GS_


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